


Our Lady of Pain

by MiriamKenneath



Category: Dolores (Notre-Dame des Sept Douleurs) - Algernon Charles Swinburne
Genre: F/M, Initiation, Pagan Gods, Ritual Sex, Vagina Dentata
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-08
Updated: 2019-05-08
Packaged: 2020-02-16 17:53:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18696418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MiriamKenneath/pseuds/MiriamKenneath
Summary: Come forward, all ye Postulants, and kneel. Abase yourselves before the sacred altar of Dolores, Our Lady of Pain.





	Our Lady of Pain

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ruis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ruis/gifts).



Come forward, all ye Postulants, and kneel. Abase yourselves before the sacred altar of Dolores, Our Lady of Pain.

For seven summers and seven winters, ye Postulants have lived in our temple and served our Goddess, supped with us and slept with us. Ye Postulants have learnt, practised and perfected her seven holy rites and her seven unspoken mysteries. Ye Postulants have learnt to cherish your pain as pleasure and your pleasure as pain.

The time is nigh! Today is the day you take your sacred vows and pledge yourself, your life and your death to the Lady Dolores and the Order of the One True Faith.

Let us begin.

 

_You have been here before, before this altar. You are a Postulant, and you have worshiped the Goddess in her temple every day for the past seven years. You know this stone upon which you kneel, worn smooth in this spot by your ritual obeisance, hard and cold though the weather outside is light and warm._

_You shudder, the heady rush of desire tingling through your body. You are frightened, but your eagerness has outrun your fear. Your cock is rampant, jutting out from beneath the loose folds of your Postulant robes, pushing the flimsy fabric aside. Your cock is swollen and throbbing, and it is wet and red at the tip. It is begging._

_You are not allowed to touch yourself, but the First Priest knows no such prohibition. When it’s your turn, he fists you until you are ready to shriek and come –_

_And then he snaps the ring onto your shaft. You arch your spine and shriek for real.  
_

 

Remember now the sacred text, the story of the birth of Dolores, Our Lady of Pain and the rite of passage which resulted in the baptism and elevation of her First Priest.

Her mother was Libitina, Goddess of the Beautiful and Noble Death. Her father was Priapus, God of Virility and Masculine Fertility. Upon her birth, she was bestowed the name Dolores.

She was lovely but cold, and she was a minor deity with no dominion of her own. She made the other gods… _uncomfortable_. Her parents’ fondest hope for her future was to successfully give her away in marriage to some eminent mortal. Ah, poor, unblessed Dolores – unwanted by her fellow gods!

Priapus and Libitina dowered her with gold and promises of divine favour and brought her before princes and politicians and plutocrats.

To a one, these foolish mortal men refused her.

‘Her hands are like ice,’ said the prince, ‘and what if her womb is as well? I need a wife who will bear me hot-blooded, strong sons!’

‘She is too cruel,’ said the politician, ‘and I need a wife who will soothe my enemies and give comfort to my allies.’

The plutocrat went so far as to take Dolores to his bed. Mysteriously, he chose not to properly fuck her.

‘Such a disappointment. I can do better,’ said the plutocrat simply in the morning as he returned her to her disappointed parents.

No one, however, was more disappointed than Dolores. What fools and cowards were these men?! Perhaps, she thought, she ought to choose her husband herself, and she would make him desire her.

She chose her man, a youth, a virgin, his skin milk-white, his locks curling and honey-gold. The magic she used upon him was her father’s, from the sweet seed of his phallus. Oh, fruit of flesh and blood! It made the youth rampant and ready, and it made him want Dolores above all other women, above all other things.

Her flesh, when he broke her open and sank into her, was not yielding, and it was not soft. She scraped his shaft where he penetrated her, and she made him shriek in agony. But her father’s magic was strong, and he did not lose his potency. His hips beat her with a powerful rhythm, pain and pleasure combined, and when he spilled himself into her – poured his seed and his _soul_ into her – and brought her to completion, stiff and silent, she clamped down so furiously upon him that she pierced him in turn and made him bleed.

She also made him hers. This man, thus marked forevermore by Dolores’ virginal passion, became her First Priest.

Blood and seed doth runneth over, mingled. Their thighs were sticky. They bathed in it.

Ah yes, _yes_ , he worshiped her, and he initiated others into her mysteries. The adoration made her strong.

 

_Now you may touch yourself, and you do so – with both hands._

_You feel consumed in her holy, cleansing fire. Pleasure and pain mingled. The ring is tight, and its teeth bite, but it does not draw blood. Not yet._

_You slide the ring up, and it catches on the crown of your cock, on the delicate foreskin. You slide the ring down, and it is like tearing, burning. Agony. Perfect. Salt tears cake your lashes and bathe your cheeks as they fall unchecked. Your cock jerks in your hands; it weeps like your eyes weep. Your sac is wrinkled, high and tight, and your seed, it rises –_

_With the first spurt, you jam the ring down into your shaft at the base, where the flesh is the thickest. The teeth pierce you – they break you – and you shriek your praise to the Goddess as the second spurt erupts from you, more powerful, so powerful its spray douses the sacred altar._

_You bleed, and you come, and you are transported into transcendent ecstasy. You are one with the Lady Dolores now, now and forever. Lady of Pain, you are hers…_

_…and she is yours._

 

By the power vested in me as the First Priest, Holiest of the Holy Lovers of the Lady Dolores, I do hereby confirm you to the faith.

Arise, ye Postulants no longer! Arise, ye newborn Lords of Pleasure and Slaves to Pain. Ye have been granted admittance to the Order of the One True Faith! Ye brother priests, embrace each other and rejoice!

Wear her mark upon your flesh forevermore; the scars are your rings of Holy Matrimony. Ye Priests are wedded to the Goddess, and now not even death shall sever the bond.

In the revered, holy name of Dolores, Our Lady of Pain – may she bless you and keep you.

 

* * *

**_-fin-_ **


End file.
